ie's door, they overheard a servant
requesting that young lady to go down to Mrs. Hosmer's study.

"Perhaps Mrs. Hosmer thinks it is time to choke off some of those
Archingtons," whispered Anna.

But Mrs. Hosmer had sent for Marie for a different purpose.

A new pupil was coming, and, as Marie had no room-mate, was to be put
with her.

"Oh, Mrs. Hosmer," protested Marie, "I'd much rather room alone."

"I should be glad to gratify you," said her preceptress, "but it is
impossible. Yours is the only vacancy on the second floor, and, as she
is a delicate girl, I do not want to send her to the third."

"Who is she?" Marie asked, seeing that she must yield to the inevitable.

"Her name is Esther Jones. She is a very quiet little girl, inclined to
be nervous. I hope you will do all you can to make her happy and to keep
her from being homesick. She will come to-night."

Marie was much vexed at the intrusion, as she chose to consider it. It
was so much nicer to room alone.

How provoking that just as she was "getting into" a better circle, and
had succeeded in dropping her commonplace room-mate of last year, she
should have this nervous little Esther Jones forced upon her.

The new girl was as plain as her name. She wore a woolen dress, heavy
shoes and an ordinary sailor hat.

"Very countrified," was Marie's mental verdict, as she watched her
unpacking her trunk.

She did not offer to assist the little stranger, who seemed much in awe
of her.

A new girl who enters a boarding-school a month after the term has begun
is always to be pitied.

The other girls all have their homesickness over by that time, and are
not apt to be so sympathetic with the newcomer as they would have been
earlier. They have formed their little coteries, and the new girl feels
herself "outside."

With Esther this was especially true. Marie neglected her utterly, and
she had not confidence in herself to try to make other friends. She went
about with a dejected, homesick look that moved Mrs. Hosmer's heart.

"I must make some other arrangement after Christmas," she thought.
"Esther doesn't seem happy where she is."

If she had known how much of Esther's unhappiness was due to Marie's
unkindness, her indignation would have made itself felt. Marie meantime
poured forth her heart on cream note-paper to her friend Marguerite
Archington, bewailing the cruel fate which separated them, and doomed
her to the companionship of Esther Jones.

Es